Last Warning, Indiana
by SammaKlaus
Summary: After a rough day of dealing with the stresses of being Overwatch's Strike Commander, Morrison heads back to his office for a few hours of solitude. Reyes has other plans.


Jack Morrison slipped quietly into his office and closed the door behind him before pulling off his trench coat and hanging it on the door's hook. With its literal weight off his shoulders, he allowed himself to breathe deeply in an attempt to relieve the metaphorical weight of his position. Being Strike Commander had been more rewarding while the world was in danger. With the war over and only small threats to deal with in its wake, people didn't think they needed Overwatch anymore. Even worse, they'd started blaming it for every problem in the book. As its leader, he was saddled with most of that blame on a more personal level.

His mind began to wander and it soon settled on a quote from an old movie he used to love as a teen: "you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain". Damn. If only he'd known to get out before the switch occurred.

Jack pulled himself from his thoughts and plopped into his desk chair to check his inbox. Ah, yes. More messages from the offices of concerned world leaders and nosy, blameful reporters. He proceeded to delete the ones from the media, one by one. He'd told them not to contact him privately; they had a PR guy for that bullshit.

He was halfway through the lengthy list of lies and accusatory questions when someone brazenly opened his office door without so much as a knock. Annoyed, he looked up from the screen in front of him to see Gabriel Reyes step inside. Reyes stared at him, cocking an eyebrow expectantly.

"Well, here you finally are," he grumbled in his deep, gravelly voice, "I was expecting you back two hours ago."

Jack groaned.

"If you have a complaint, take a number. I'm up to my eyeballs in media Hell right now."

"Right." Reyes kicked the door closed and proceeded closer to his desk. "I waited for you to get here for two hours just so I could whine?"

Jack closed his inbox with an exasperated sigh and leaned back in his chair. Reyes slinked around the corner of his desk and sat on its edge just in front of him.

"By the smell of you, you didn't stop at the bar on the way back," he commented, folding his arms, "you didn't get into trouble, did you?"

"Traffic," Jack replied curtly.

"Bullshit," Reyes retorted, equally curt.

"I just needed to get lost for a while."

"When's the last time you had a drink?"

Jack laughed humorlessly.

"The last thing people need to see is me at a bar drowning my sorrows. I'm the goddamn public face of Overwatch; everything I do these days is just waiting to be turned into a scandal."

"You need a drink."

"What do you expect me to do, Reyes?"

Reyes shrugged, grinning a little.

"I'm not the one with the statue."

Jack groaned loudly.

"You know I hate when you do that."

Reyes grinned again, nodding a little.

"I'm gonna get you a drink," he stated resolutely.

"Did you not hear what I just said?"

He stood again and walked over to the door, where he pressed the lock button.

"We're alone, Jack," he pointed out, "I won't tell if you don't."

Jack sighed again and ran his hand through his hair. No matter how many times he told himself to relax he couldn't clear his head. He wasn't cut out for this. He was a soldier, not a politician. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to forget for a little while. That, or getting drunk could be the final nail in the coffin the world was building around him.

Reyes pushed the contents of a nearby cabinet around carelessly as he searched for the bottle of liquor Jack had been trying so hard not to touch in the past few weeks. Once he found it, he yanked the lid off and took a swig.

"Oh, yeah," he grunted, clearing his throat, "this'll do the trick."

"I've been trying not to develop a drinking problem. If I start I don't know if I'll stop."

Reyes slapped the bottle down on the desk in front of Jack.

"Sounds like a good time," he said casually, "drink up, Goldilocks."

Jack took the bottle and swallowed a generous gulp of whiskey. It burned as it went down, but he'd always sort of liked that about it. He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at Reyes.

"Happy?"

He shook his head and pushed the bottle back against his lips. Jack rolled his eyes at him and tilted it back. Reyes tipped it even further with one finger, sending a hefty stream of whiskey down his throat. Jack squinted, annoyed, at him, but decided to satisfy the man by swallowing a lot more than he'd planned to. He let him finally set the bottle down after a quick cough and a chuckle. It'd been a while since he laughed like that.

"That ought to loosen you up," Reyes said, taking the bottle to drink some himself.

"Shit," Jack grumbled in reply, rubbing his brow. He looked up at him. "Now what? You didn't just come here to get me drunk, did you?"

"Among other things," Reyes murmured, leaning over him. He reached down to cup the back of his neck, then pulled him into a kiss. Jack yanked away from him.

"Not now, Reyes," he grumbled, looking in the direction of the screen.

"You keep calling me by my last name like that and I'll have to get angry, _Morrison_."

"I'm serious, Gabe."

Gabe grimaced at him.

"You're not shooting me down again."

"I have other things to worry about; you know that. I'm not doing this to spite you, if that's what you think."

Jack kept his jaw squared stubbornly while Gabe leaned in to kiss his ear, his beard tickling his cheek. He tried not to react, but he could feel involuntary gooseflesh forming on the back of his neck.

"It's been two months," Gabe complained, "for someone who's not trying to spite me, you know how to make me wait for it. What'd I do this time, forget to salute you?"

"I just can't afford to be distracted right now," Jack insisted, pushing him away with his elbow.

"A distraction is exactly what you need," Gabe persisted, just as stubbornly as Jack had been, "you need to step out of the Strike Commander frame for a few hours and come back to see everything with fresh eyes. Who knows, I might inspire you." He leaned in close again. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm randy," he added quietly.

Jack groaned, mostly annoyed that Gabe's plan was starting to work.

"Screw you."

"That's the general idea. Have some more whiskey if you have to, but this is happening tonight."

Jack didn't try to protest when Gabe put his knee on the chair beside his thigh and pulled him back into a kiss. He felt his hand slide from his neck, down his chest, and to the zipper of his pants. Gabe bit Jack's lip playfully while he slid the zipper open. Jack flinched when his hand slipped into the slit in his boxers' crotch. Gabe stopped abruptly and pulled back.

"Oh come on, Cornbread, what am I supposed to do with this? Pull yourself together."

Jack grimaced. Despite the alcohol coursing through his blood stream, his worries weren't leaving without a fight.

"I don't think I can do this tonight, Gabe. I'm sorry."

"Nope," Gabe replied, pulling Jack's cock out through the fly of his pants. Jack winced at how roughly he was treating it. "We're going to get creative," he continued, "then we're going to have some fucking sex. Got it?"

Jack's face relaxed visibly when Gabe began to stroke him, gently.

"Gabe, please," he whispered, putting his hand on top of Gabe's to stop it, "maybe tomorrow, alright?"

Gabe sighed and used his free hand to pluck the bottle off the desk and push it against Jack's mouth forcefully.

"This is for your own good, Jackie," he insisted, "your little blond head's tired. Start thinking with the other one."  
"Ugh, you're vulgar today," Jack commented around the bottle. He pushed it away. "Anyway, I don't need that to get through this."

"Finally coming around, huh?" Gabe replied with a mischievous smile, "now we just need to get the Little Commander on board."

"Eugh," Jack groaned, "don't ever say that again."

"Fine."

Gabe grinned again and slid down his body until he was on his knees. Jack pushed himself off the backrest to peer down at him.

"What're you doing?"

"Shh," Gabe hushed him. He put his hands up on Jack's thighs to spread them.

"Wait, you're not just teasing me…"

"You're right. I went through all the work of convincing you as a prank," Gabe muttered sarcastically, looking up at him impatiently, "get your head out of your ass."

Jack frowned excessively.

"Now, are you gonna shut your cornhole and let me do this or do I have to stuff something in there to shut it for you?"

"But we never did that be—"

"Last warning, Indiana."

Jack closed his mouth while Gabe leaned in to put his lips around the exposed dick before him. Jack let out a surprised gasp when the other man's tongue deftly awakened it.

"So, you've done this before," he murmured.

Gabe dug his thumbnail into his thigh and Jack shut his mouth again. While he continued his work, Jack felt the pleasure building steadily. He clenched his teeth and leaned over to slip his hands under the beanie Gabe had on his head. He slid it off to caress his thick, dark hair tenderly, running his fingers through it.

They'd only just begun and he could already feel his worries melting away. He wasn't thinking about the reporters or the accusations or the inbox of messages he still had to read through before the weekend was over. He just thought about the hair in his hands and the surprisingly good job his lover was doing with "the Little Commander". God, the name made him cringe. That, or it was the prickling goosebumps running down his arms and calves.

He let a long breath out through his nose when Gabe unexpectedly pulled himself away. He sat up on his knees to grab Jack's head and press his lips against his own. His tongue slid past his teeth to play with the other. As they made out, Jack pressed himself against him and gripped him passionately by the waist. Gabe's lips tightened in a smile against his and he grabbed his hand to yank it down to his belt. Their mouths separated, both of them starting to breathe heavier, but quietly while their excitement built.

"Show me you really want this, Soldier," Gabe whispered breathlessly.

"I give the orders here," Jack whispered back.

"Oh, yeah? Then get in there and take charge, Commander."

Jack grabbed the hood strings of his sweatshirt and pulled him back in. While they kissed he whipped his hands around to the front of Gabe's belt, where the buckle was, to undo it. With the first task hastily completed he made quick work of the button and zipper of his pants. Gabe helped him slide the pants off, but not before pulling something small out of his back pocket. His hands free, Jack yanked down his boxers. Exposed, he chuckled into his mouth, then pulled his lips free.

"That-a boy," he encouraged him.

Jack responded by pulling him back in again. Gabe smiled and straddled his lap, his knees on either side of his partner's still-clothed thighs on the chair. He slipped what he'd pulled from his pocket into the other man's hand. Jack recognized it by the feel; he'd come with a purpose, alright. He ripped open the small packet of lube and began to prepare him, Gabe's tongue dancing in his mouth as he worked. Once he was finished, he gave his lover's rear a playful squeeze. Gabe grabbed the base of the slick turtleneck Jack wore and harshly pulled it up. The blond raised his arms and they separated just long enough for him to pull the shirt off over his head. Gabe grinned impishly and dove in to bite his ear, hard. Jack grunted and shoved him against the desk behind him, standing as he did. He heard the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey break when it slid off the desk.

Without waiting for Gabe to make his next move, he cornered him against the desk and shoved his lower back against the edge when he leaned in to kiss him roughly, holding his head by a tuft of hair grasped firmly in his fist. Gabe groaned in what he understood to be a mixture of pain and pleasure, egging him on.

"Hope you're ready," he growled, "I'm done messing around."

"Promises, promises."

Jack grabbed him and slung him onto the surface of the desk, climbing up after him. He rolled him onto his chest and straddled him, holding him down by his head. Gabe shoved Jack's screen projector out of the way and braced himself just before he dove in. He arched his back to hover over Gabe as he thrusted, his breath causing the tiny dark hairs at the base of Gabe's skull to prick up in their follicles.

"Ugh," he grunted when a particularly forceful thrust rocked his pelvis, "there's the Jack I came to see."

His senses dulled by the whiskey, Jack's fingertips tingled as he took hold of Gabe's hips with both hands to stabilize him. He sped up, starting to pant with the effort. Gabe reached back to grab his hair and pull his head in closer.

"Harder," he hissed in his ear.

Jack complied eagerly. The otherwise stable desk rocked with his thrusts. Gabe still held his head close to his own face. He could feel his breaths on his ear and cheek. He craned his neck to kiss him quickly, working diligently to please the other man. Gabe pulled his head away to sneer at him.

"I know you can do better than that, Jack," he scolded him.

Jack grunted as he rocked him harder and faster. He knew he was close, but he had to hold out. He needed to give Gabe what he came for. Reaching into his energy reserves, he soldiered on. He almost stopped completely when Gabe's hand slipped and his skull hit the wall at the head of the desk. To his relief, he just laughed, allowing him to keep going. Fucking maniac.

Jack's heart was pounding, his knees aching, and his strength finally waning. He shifted one of his hands off Gabe's hip to grasp his erect dick. He felt him start to squirm underneath him. There it was, something to push him further along. He massaged him, slowing his thrusts just a little to keep from hurting the sensitive organ he held. Gabe moaned quietly.

"That's it," Jack whispered, "you're difficult to please."

"Have to make this last," he paused to groan through clenched teeth, nodding to express his appreciation for what he was doing, "you've been…so unreliable lately."

Jack kissed his ear.

"I'm sorry."

"Just keep going."

Jack felt his lover's body tense beneath him as his climax approached. His glutes clenched as well, tightening the areas around Jack's shaft. He bit his lip to keep from making too loud an exclamation. Each thrust was twice as intense with the added pressure, but he fought it off. Gabe had to finish first, he told himself over and over; he had lost time to make up for.

At last, Gabe's breath hitched and he whined as his cock relaxed in Jack's hand. Relieved, Jack finally let himself come. He collapsed on top of his exhausted partner, just long enough to catch his breath, before removing himself from Gabe's body. He laid on the desk beside him, still breathing heavily.

Gabe rolled himself onto his back and wrapped an arm around him. Jack turned himself upright to lay his head on his heaving chest. His lover's hand slid off his bare shoulder and buried itself in his blond hair to massage his scalp gently.

Jack reached down to the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He held the box out to Gabe, who took it.

"These are bad for you," he commented while pulling one out. He chuckled and stuck it between Jack's lips.

Jack nodded and held the cig while Gabe lit it for him. After taking a long drag he blew the smoke up toward the ceiling.

"Don't tell Doc Ziegler," he said, "you've seen the way she lectures Jesse."

Gabe grunted a response and lit one for himself.

"Well. The kid's got a cigar in his mouth twenty four hours a day, seven days a week," Gabe mumbled to keep the cig between his lips while he talked, "hope she gets through to him." He smirked and angled his head down to puff a mouthful of smoke into Jack's face. Jack coughed and pulled his hand out of his hair.

"God, you're an asshole," he growled.


End file.
